Pick a Peck of Pique

Many moons ago, I was a nubile young thing dating a well to do man. During the course of our relationship, he showered me with attention and a ton of very expensive gifts. Thanks to his largesse, I was the recipient of a full length chinchilla fur coat (don’t judge, PETA wasn’t a thing back then), and more baubles, bangles and beads than I could count – including a diamond and ruby bracelet, emerald earrings, and a very large, gaudy and ridiculously expensive diamond ring.

One day, two dozen roses appeared on my doorstep – with a note saying “something came up this weekend. Love you. See you Monday”

Through mutual friends, I learned the “something” that came up was a Playboy model he had flown up from Texas to spend the weekend with.

I was livid. My fit of pique fast turned into boiling rage – and, because, after all, I am a redhead, I grabbed a butcher knife and loosed my anger on the coat first. Within minutes, it morphed into an unrecognizable pile of fur and leather clasps. My fury still not sated, the roses were my next victims. I tore them stem from stem, and every prick from the thorns as I carried out my rampage only served to make me angrier.

The pièce de résistance was the jewelry – every last bit of it flushed down the toilet. I then ceremoniously deposited the fur and flower remnants on the miscreant’s porch with the card ripped in two on top.

“THAT will show him” I told myself.

Weeks went by. It was pretty evident that I hadn’t “shown” him anything. He doubtless spent more time hobnobbing with the model and I had no chinchilla coat to keep me warm. My wrist looked naked without the bracelet. And the only person that I’d hurt….was myself.

This cautionary tale is more than catharsis to me, gentle readers. It’s meant to be demonstrative of what the livid Trump supporters are doing. Yes, the GOP is worthy of contempt. Yes, the hierarchy is worthy of scorn. But the outright destruction of the party won’t hurt them. They’ll slither their consultant butts elsewhere and still make their outrageous fees. The insulated ones will retire from office with fat pensions and make gazillions as lobbyists. No – it is the little person – the average honest hard working republican (with a small “R”, thank you) who will be the one that gets hurt.

Once the party – our only avenue to fight the progressives on the left – is gone, what, pray tell, will replace it? I don’t think you’ll be happy with the answer. Rapid change, like the one you’re salivating over currently, only leads to tyranny.

Some of us have been working tirelessly since before 2008 to change the party from the inside. We’re the ones who’ve gone to committee meetings, shown up at caucuses, become precinct captains. Not because we’re dreaded RINOs – but because we know that the best way to change a party that’s moved too far to the left is from the inside – from the ground up. And we had been making strides in that direction. Look at Dave Brat. Look at Mike Lee. Look at a host of solid Republicans in the Tea Party caucus who wouldn’t have cracked the good-old-boy’s network 20 years ago.

Where were you back then? I’d wager most of you “burn the party down and spit on the ashes” types were sitting on your couch, eating Cheetos, listening to Rush/Sean/whoever, swearing at the do-nothing congress, and staying home because you didn’t like McCain – or Mitt. I guaran-damn-tee you weren’t side by side with us in the trenches fighting to take the party back from entrenched interests.

So yes, I’m getting pretty darned angry at your sudden uprising behind a charlatan who only acts as a megaphone for your rage. You’re so consumed with your justifiable anger, that you don’t see (or don’t care) what road you are embarking on.

I’ve tried to understand you. No more. I’m going to fight you tooth and nail on this one, Trumpkins. I’m not going to let your fit of pique flush the hard work that true conservatives have invested over a decade in down the toilet.

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